Reversal of the Roles
by LaneWorld
Summary: It's never comfortable when the student becomes the teacher. Especially not when that student is twenty-one year old Bella Swan and that student, is the one and only, Carlisle Cullen. Who will break first under these new conditions, in new settings, with each of them just as stubborn as the other.


**My very public disclaimer where I don't own the Twilight books/movies/anything ever. Also I dont know everything. But. Thats to be expected. Right?**

It'seen four years. Four years since the Cullens tore themselves out of my life, taking part of my heart with them. I won't lie and say that I don't miss them, that when they left—even Rosalie—that I felt cheated out of the life I had planned for myself. A life that I thought would be eternal. Where I would have a family, home, and love waiting for me throughout many decades. However, I also can say with the utmost certainty that them leaving, no matter how heart wrenchingly painful it was to endure, was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I try not to focus on the Cullen's often as a general rule. Most of the time when I think of my past family, their memories become tinged with the anger and resentment I hold against them for their abandonment. And I don't want to ruin the good memories I have of them anymore then I already have. But recently, with the string of storms that have plagued the area and September in its beginning stages, they keep popping into my head at the most inopportune times.

I was tangled in the too warm bed spread and sheets, my pillows thrown on the ground next to my mattress like little land mines waiting to be stepped on. Noting the sheen of sweat covering my body, I focused on the clock across the room from my bed. 7:15. Great. I didn't have to be up for another two hours, but I sensed that the two more hours of reprieve were not in the cards. It was probably due to the fact that I was to start my teaching assistant job today. Needless to say, I was going out of my mind with worry. My biggest concern was the possibility of a group of college freshmen disrespecting me because of my age. I was older than them, but not by much, and since it was the first level of college English, I knew I was in for a challenge.

Becoming a teacher's assistant was challenging in most schools, especially at Browne University, and was made even more rare by the fact I was only twenty-one. I had graduated Forks early, already having most of my required courses out of the way after my junior year and since I had no more attachments to the school, there was no regret in leaving early. I applied to what seemed like a million colleges, and all had accepted. Even Dartmouth, but Brown was where I felt most suited. And I don't regret it for a moment.

After graduating with a Bachelor's Degree in English and Writing, with a minor in Latin I decided to pursue graduate school, at Brown of course. I'm a year into earning my Doctorate and that qualified me to apply for the job of teaching assistant. And with a lot of work, and the obligatory ass-kissing, I made it in. The man I was to assist was a shrewd professor, strict and impatient, but he was brilliant in every regard. I consider myself lucky to be teaching amongst Dr. Momone.

With my body growing just as restless as my mind, my body demanded that I get up and start the day. I took a long bath and went downstairs to eat breakfast, but more importantly, to get coffee started. After finishing my nutritious meal of Poptarts and orange juice, I decided to bite the bullet and begin to get dressed for my first day of work.

I would like to think that my fashion sense has evolved slightly from when the Cullens left, I even owned a few pairs of heels. However, I still tried to keep my clothes as comfortable as possible. Deciding what to wear was more simple than I had expected, and after slapping on a small amount of makeup I looked in the mirror.

A determined gaze greeted me, and I couldn't help but to smirk at how surreal this situation was. My long wavy brown hair was left down, layered in a soft style with the natural streaks of red more apparent after my week in Florida with my mother. I focused my eyes then on the outfit I had decided. I chose to keep it business-casual in the tight black slacks and maroon button down shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal some skin but still covering enough to be considered appropriate. The black heels I wore really polished the outfit, and even though they were heels they were still ridiculously comfortable. Feeling ready I checked the clock once more. 8:58. Still a little early, but that was to be expected with the nervousness settling in my stomach.

I was pacing. Class started in a little under fifteen minutes and I knew students would be arriving soon. It was stupid and even senseless panic that had settled in my veins; that made me wring my hands repeatedly on the binding of my note pad. I knew that I was prepared for this, in fact, I had done nothing but prepare for this class nearly all summer. None of those rational thoughts soothed the terror that was running through my mind.

Later, after class had started I began the mandatory introductions. "Hello, class. My name is Isabella Swan, but that's Ms. Swan to you. As some of you may have noticed I'm not Dr. Momone, I lack the beard and prestige," that earned a few chuckles, "However, I will be teaching you for this semester. Now, some of you may be relieved that you've got a T.A. grading your work and all that teaching jazz. But I can assure you that I will grade you just as fiercely and challenge you just as much as Dr. Momone, maybe even more."

I looked around the class, greeted by the looks of fear, boredom, and even a few smirks. The class was medium sized, only about fifty kids or so, and I hoped that would make grading just a little bit easier. I cleared my throat before starting again, "Most of this class will revolve around conversation, and some for points, and I won't be announcing which ones. There will be a lot of outside work and you can pick up a copy of this semesters syllabus. Today, I'll start us off gently with one simple question: What's your favorite piece of writing and why?"

Listening to some of the students answers I got a sense of which kids would be active participants, and the ones who'd show up hoping that they somehow passed. Many of the titles sounded like they could be picked straight off of , selected carefully to impress me. Huckleberry Finn, Odyssey, Jane Eyre, The Scarlett Letter (which no one actually likes unless they're a complete masochist), etc. Most I've read, others more obscure. I was almost ready to move on when I heard another voice, coming from the back of the room without being called on.

"Personally, I prefer the Classics. Emma, Dante's Inferno, Chaucer, and particularly Wuthering Heights." I knew that voice, and my teeth were set on edge.

"Perhaps next time you should raise your hand before giving your opinion. But, since you've already started why don't you tell me why?" I asked in a haughty tone, trying to catch sight of the owner of the smooth voice.

"It's self-explanatory _Ms. Swan_." He replied back, and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. Strange because I'd never seen it when I had known him and his family all too well.

Deciding to try to keep control of the situation I smiled sweetly in his direction, "If it's so easy to explain I'm sure you'll have no problem writing a thousand words on why it's so 'self-explanatory'. By next class, Mr..." I trailed off questioningly, even though I knew the answer before it left his mouth.

"Cullen. Carlisle Cullen. And I look forward to writing it."

**Thank you for reading and, hopefully, enjoying. **

**Im already working on the second chapter, however, feel free to send me reviews or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days.  
**


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